


Don't Mess With Patrick Stump

by enawritesthings



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Pete, Dirty Talk, Face Slapping, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, No Lube, Rimming, Rough Sex, Top Patrick, Unsafe Sex, pete annoys patrick into sex, secret feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4078711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enawritesthings/pseuds/enawritesthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete annoys Patrick, Patrick gets his revenge.</p>
<p>I suck at titles, I suck at summaries, hopefully I don't suck at smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Mess With Patrick Stump

The whole thing was Patrick's fault, anyway. He knew that the Cap'n Crunch was Pete's, but when Pete had finally stumbled out of bed this morning, he found Patrick sitting at the table with his nose in a book, a spoonful of delicious crunchberries on its way to his mouth. Pete shot him the best death glare he could summon at 6:30 in the morning, but Patrick didn't even look up. He just kept reading as Pete got a bowl and a spoon for himself, then reached for the cereal box and discovered that it was empty.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Pete snarled, hurling the empty box across the table at Patrick, who was turning the page nonchalantly. The tips of his ears had turned pink, though, so Pete knew he was aware of the situation. “That was my fucking cereal! I bought it! It's my favorite! And you don't even like it! What the fuck?”

Patrick sighed, marking his place and closing his book, and finally met Pete's eyes. “And you promised to buy something that vaguely resembled food next time you went grocery shopping, remember? I asked for cereal of my own, not this sugary kid shit. I was hungry.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Pete fumed. How dare Patrick try to make this his fault? “It was mine,” Pete grumbled, slamming his bowl back into the cupboard. “Now what am I going to have for breakfast?”

Another shrug. “Not my problem,” Patrick said coolly, getting up and putting his bowl in the sink. “But you'd better eat fast, because we have to be at the radio station at 7:30.”

“Who the fuck scheduled such an early interview?” Pete groaned, mostly to himself, staring forlornly into the refrigerator. He really did shop like a 10-year-old spending his own money for the first time – sugary cereals, fruit snacks, junk food, and pizza were basically what he lived on. But he'd been really looking forward to his Crunchberries, and nothing else sounded appetizing this early. Finally, he closed the refrigerator and grabbed a granola bar (the kind with chocolate chips and more sugar than a candy bar) and headed back upstairs to get dressed.

He was still pissed off when they reached the radio station, which is probably what possessed him to do it. Waking up early and disappointment were two of Pete's least favorite things, and Patrick had forced him to endure both this morning. So when the DJ changed the subject to celebrity crushes, Pete saw his chance to get even.

“I'd say my celebrity crush is Patrick Stump,” he purred into the microphone, grinning. “He counts, right?” He was focused on revenge, but a tingle still went through his body as he thought about how he felt with Patrick. He wasn't sure if he would call it a crush, exactly, but there was definitely some kind of attraction there. It was more sexual than romantic – he still felt the same about Patrick as he always had, but he'd noticed Patrick slimming down, and certain parts of his body had noticed, too. But then again, Pete could be sexually attracted to a trashcan if the conditions were right, so he never really thought anything of it.

The DJ laughed, despite the look on Patrick's face. “Yeah, sure he does. What's it like being in such close proximity with your crush all the time, Pete?”

“It's tough, man. He's so cute, with that cute little butt, those pretty eyes, that mouth...” Pete was realizing that he maybe thought about Patrick a little more than was strictly friendly, but he continued anyway. “And we live together, so it gets really hard. I mean, it gets really hard, if you know what I mean.” He waggled his eyebrows at Patrick, who made a gesture that made Pete glad they were on the radio instead of TV. He was probably going to regret this later, but it was always fun to make Patrick uncomfortable in public.

The DJ chuckled appreciatively, completely oblivious to Patrick's ire, and turned to him to ask, “What do you have to say about that, Patrick?”

“Oh, it's going to get a lot harder, Pete,” Patrick growled. “Just wait till we get home.” He probably meant it to sound like an annoyed joke, but it came out more like a come-on to Pete. Ignoring the sudden twisting sensation in his stomach, he just flashed Patrick another grin, and the interview moved on.

Patrick was very quiet on the way home. Pete spent the ride pressed against his door, tense, waiting for an attack that never came. The longer it took for Patrick to explode, the worse it usually was, so Pete was extremely nervous as they pulled into the driveway in complete silence.

As soon as they got inside, Pete made a beeline for the living room – lots of space to run, fewer things to throw than the kitchen, easy access to escape routes. Patrick followed, still oddly silent. It was too much for Pete.

“Okay, look, I'm sorry. I know you hate it when I make jokes about us, I only did it 'cause I was mad about the cereal thing this morning, and I'm sorry. Okay? Just... say something.” Pete ran a hand through his hair. Patrick was just standing there, arms crossed, face unnaturally blank. “You're stressing me out, waiting for you to freak out on me.”

Patrick's voice came out even, cold, full of fury. “You just keep pushing it, Pete. You really want people to think we're an item, don't you? Well, in that case,” he said calmly, reaching down to undo his belt, “why don't you suck me off?”

Pete's eyes went wide as Patrick unzipped his fly, slid his jeans over his hips, and pulled out his cock. “W-what?” He couldn't take his eyes off Patrick's hand, slowly jacking himself off.

“Suck my dick, Pete.” Patrick took a few steps forward until he was close enough for Pete to feel the heat emanating from his body. He reached out and put his hand on Pete's shoulder, pushing him down to his knees. “You're so fucking eager, right? Every fucking interview, every night on stage, you're all over me. You want to kiss me so badly? You want to put your hands on me? Go ahead,” he said, cocking his head to the side and smiling. “Suck my fucking dick.”

Pete swallowed hard, eyes locked on Patrick's cock. It was thicker than he'd imagined, and he could see drops of precum forming on the tip. His own pants had become very tight all of a sudden. He licked his lips almost involuntarily, then looked up at Patrick's face. Pete opened his mouth to protest, to offer some other form of penance, but suddenly he felt a hand on the back of his head and Patrick's cock was stuffed roughly into his mouth.

It had been a while since Pete had sucked a dick, but it came back quickly. It didn't really matter, anyway, because Patrick was in control – he had his hand tangled in Pete's hair, fingernails scratching his scalp, and he was thrusting hard into Pete's mouth. Pete concentrated on relaxing his jaw and tried not to gag when the tip of Patrick's cock hit the back of his throat. He also tried to ignore his own erection, rubbing deliciously against his jeans every time Patrick thrust into him. He reached down to unzip his fly, but suddenly his mouth was empty, his head was yanked backwards, and Patrick's hand came down hard across his cheek.

“Motherfuck, ow!” Pete yelped, tears forming in his eyes. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“This isn't about you,” Patrick said angrily. “I didn't say you could jerk off, asshole.”

Pete glared up at him. “Well, you didn't have to fucking hit me. I'm sorry, all right?”

Patrick pursed his lips, as though he was trying to figure out if Pete was really sorry or not. He shook his head. “Get up.”

Pete stood, a little disappointed that he didn't get to finish blowing Patrick, but as soon as he was on his feet, Patrick's hands were on his fly, yanking his pants down, and then spinning him around and bending him over the back of the couch. Pete barely had time to process it before he felt Patrick's lips trailing down the small of his back, but when he figured out where he was headed, Pete panicked.

“Dude, what the fuck?” He said again, his voice coming out high and tight. “What are you doing?!”

“What does it look like, idiot, I'm going to eat you out and then fuck you in the ass.” Patrick licked a hot stripe all the way up Pete's ass, from his balls to his hole, and Pete shuddered and moaned against his will. “That's what I fucking thought,” Patrick murmured, a smile in his voice.

Pete had never had his ass eaten before, but holy shit. Patrick's tongue was hot and wet, spreading and licking him open. It felt amazing. Pete actually felt his knees go weak when Patrick stuck his whole tongue all the way inside him. “Holy fuck, Patrick,” he moaned, clutching the back of the couch. “Fuck yes, dude, oh my god.”

Patrick slipped a finger alongside his tongue. “Oh my god, fuck, yes,” Pete gasped, shaking. “Oh shit, yeah, Patrick, fuck.”

Two fingers now, scissoring inside him. Pete buried his face in the couch, panting and moaning, bucking his hips back against Patrick's face. He felt the familiar heat pooling in his stomach, his balls tightening, a shiver running up his spine with every thrust of Patrick's tongue.

Patrick pulled back, fingers still inside Pete. “Fuck, Pete,” he breathed, “I've wanted to do this for so fucking long. You feel so good, I can't wait to fuck you.”

“W-wait, what?” Pete panted, trying to look behind him in confusion. “You – you've wanted to do this?”

Patrick leaned back in, licking his own fingers as they slid in and out of Pete's ass. He slicked up a third and slowly added it. “Oh yeah,” he murmured as Pete moaned in response. “I've thought about this since we met. You have the most perfect ass I've ever seen.”

He stood up, sliding his fingers out. Pete whimpered at the sudden emptiness, but then Patrick's cock was pressing into him, slowly, inch by inch. “I didn't stretch you enough,” Patrick whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss into Pete's shoulder. “It's going to fucking hurt.”

Pete sucked in a breath, feeling Patrick's thick cock stretching him further and further. It burned, it hurt, he felt like he was going to rip in half, but it also felt insanely good. He cried out, face buried in the couch again, as Patrick's cock filled him up. Patrick went slowly for a minute, then his fingers tightened around Pete's hips. Pete braced himself, but the first snap of Patrick's hips still caught him off guard.

“Jesus shit fuck, goddamn it,” he gasped as pain rippled through his body, followed by a wave of pleasure as Patrick's cock found his prostate. “Fuck yes, Patrick, yes, fuck me, shit.”

“I should have fucking known you'd be a talker,” Patrick chuckled, snapping his hips again, eliciting another long string of profanity from Pete. “I love it, tell me what you want me to do.”

Pete swallowed. The pain was lessening now, but he was so fucking hard, he couldn't think straight. This was Patrick, with his dick in Pete's ass, telling him to talk dirty, fucking him hard and fast. Pete's head was swimming, and his cock was twitching with every thrust, leaking all over the couch.

“God, Patrick, you feel so fucking good, oh my god. I've wanted this for so long, I've wanted you for fucking years, shit, yeah.” Pete stammered a little as Patrick changed his angle, slamming into Pete's prostate each time he bucked his hips. It felt so fucking good, Pete couldn't even form words anymore.

“What do you want, Pete?” Patrick moaned, gripping Pete's hips hard enough to bruise. “You want me to suck you off? Want to fuck my ass? What do you like?”

Pete couldn't help it – he let go of his death grip on the couch and reached one hand down to his cock, giving it one delicious stroke before he felt Patrick's hand land on his ass cheek, hard. Then a hand was yanking his hair so hard he was forced to stand up straight, ass still stuffed full of Patrick's dick. A silky voice in his ear hissed, “I told you, no jerking off. I didn't give you permission.”

Without warning, Pete's ass was suddenly empty, and he was shoved unceremoniously towards the kitchen, which was made more difficult by the pants still around his ankles. He stumbled his way to the kitchen table, where Patrick turned him around and pushed him backwards. A wave of pain as his ass hit the table, then overwhelming pleasure when Patrick wrapped his lips around Pete's cock. He was kneeling in front of the table, removing Pete's pants, and his pretty mouth was hot around Pete, who couldn't stop watching his dick disappear between those lips. Pete felt close to coming already, but Patrick pulled off after a second, pushing Pete down onto his back.

“Patrick, what- oh shit,” Pete breathed, as Patrick wedged his shoulders under Pete's knees and shoved his dick roughly back into Pete's ass. “Oh fuck me, yes, goddamn.”

“Yeah?” Patrick grunted, pounding into Pete, his fingers bruising Pete's hips. “You like that? You like being fucked like this, don't you?” Pete moaned in response, eliciting a dark chuckle from Patrick. “Yeah, you love taking my cock up your ass, I fucking knew you would. Fucking knew your ass would be hot and tight, perfect, just waiting for my cock. Fuck, Pete,” he panted, “you feel so fucking good.”

Patrick's face was pink, beads of sweat dotting his forehead and upper lip. He was still fully clothed, even down to his fedora. Pete reached up and knocked it off, running his hands through Patrick's golden hair, damp with sweat. “God, you are gorgeous,” he whispered fervently, eyes locked on Patrick's.

A funny look crossed Patrick's face, and suddenly his lips were pressed against Pete's, teeth lightly biting Pete's bottom lip, tongue swirling into Pete's mouth. One hand was fisted in Pete's t-shirt, the other in Pete's hair. The new closeness of their bodies forced Patrick's dick deeper into Pete's ass, and two thrusts later, Patrick was shuddering and gasping, coming hard inside him. Pete couldn't look away from Patrick's face, watching his mouth form Pete's name, eyes closed and eyebrows drawn down, biting his lip as he pumped into Pete one last time.

“Jesus Christ, Patrick,” Pete said softly as Patrick collapsed on top of him. He was still painfully hard, but all he could think about right now was his name on Patrick's lips as he came. Pete wrapped his arms around his best friend, kissing the top of his head, overwhelmed with emotions he couldn't figure out right now.

Patrick was mouthing at Pete's neck, licking his collarbone, pressing small kisses to his chest. His tongue swirled around Pete's nipples, traced the bartskull, kissing and biting until he came face-to-face with Pete's cock, still hard and dripping. Patrick licked his lips, looking up into Pete's eyes, and dropped to his knees, swallowing Pete's entire cock.

“Holy fuck,” Pete gasped, gripping the edge of the table. “Fuck, Patrick, oh my – oh my god,” he moaned. “I'm not going to last, shit, yes-”

Patrick pulled off, wrapping a hand around Pete's cock and slowly jacking him. “I have wanted to fuck you since we met,” he said in a low voice, a little breathless. “You're fucking gorgeous, and I wanted you immediately. Wanted to suck you off, wanted to fuck your ass, wanted to feel your cock inside me.”

“Holy shit, yes,” Pete groaned, bucking into Patrick's hand. “I want those things – I've wanted that for years, fuck, Patrick, why do you think I'm always touching you and kissing you? I've been hot for you since you were jailbait – fuck, yeah,” he moaned, cut off as Patrick sank his perfect mouth back down onto Pete's cock, all the way to the base. “Wanted to fuck that pretty mouth since the first time I saw you,” Pete grunted, threading his fingers through Patrick's fine hair, thrusting up into his mouth. “Oh shit, Patrick, I'm going to fucking come, I'm going to come – yeah – fuuuck,” he breathed, finally, spurting hot and thick down Patrick's throat. Patrick sucked him through it, licking him clean before standing back up.

“Thank you,” Pete sighed, feeling like he'd just run a marathon. Patrick stood, wiping his mouth delicately. A thought suddenly hit Pete and he caught Patrick's hand before he could move away. “So what are the chances this could be a regular thing,” he asked, grinning his big dumb Pete grin, “because I'd be okay with five or six times a week, minimum.”

Patrick smiled, a blush creeping back up his neck, and he nodded. “I think I could work with that.”


End file.
